


Possession

by katarinakreuz



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: AU, An excuse for more smut basically, F/M, I repeat, I'M NOT A SADIST, Knifeplay, Multi Chapter, NOT. A. SADIST, You Can Tell, a jealous mal is almost as good as a dead mal, aka smut with a plot, don't get scared, forgot to mention it before, judging from the title tho, multiple POVs, oh yeah this is pretty kinky, sorry for the crappy summary, sort of, yeah I'm a horrible person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarinakreuz/pseuds/katarinakreuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an AU where the Grisha examiners return to Keramzin after a few years to, once again, examine a now 13 year old Alina.  This time she fails to suppress her powers and they are discovered. She is taken away to Os Alta and leaves Mal and her old life behind. Four years later, they meet in the Grisha encampment in Kribirsk. The Darkling wastes no time in subtly and not so subtly indicating to Mal (and everyone else) that Alina belongs only to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this chapter and the next one after this will be done in Mal's POV. Yeah I know, I know, I'm not really a fan of him either but it seemed more profound to tell their reunion through his eyes. This is not a Mal/Alina fic btw though there will be slight moments especially in the beginning. It's really me setting the stage for the fun stuff...if you know what I mean ;D

Mal stared at the flask of kvas in his hand, trying in vain to suppress the anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Tomorrow he and the rest of the trackers in his division would be crossing the Fold. The treacherous terrain of shadow that separated Ravka from their western cities and their only coastline. It wasn't the darkness itself that scared him but the tales of the vicious flesh eating monsters that lurked within it. Volcra, the people called them. Those abominations were the cause of the heavy casualties, consisting of merchants and members of the First and Second army, which accompanied each crossing of the Fold.

He and his division would not be alone, however, they would be accompanied by Grisha: the Inferni who summoned fire, Squallers who summoned wind and those creepy Heartrenders who could make a man's heart literally explode with the flick of a wrist. He didn't know much about the Grisha, except for the fact that they had those special abilities which separated them from the average man, and, that they could not be trusted. After all, they had taken his only friend away him four years ago, without even giving them enough time to say their goodbyes. A vague image flashed before his eyes of a pale skinned girl screaming his name from the window of a red lacquered coach as it rolled swiftly away from the orphanage, her mousy hair billowing in the wind. He'd ran after the coach as fast as his pudgy legs would have allowed him but it was soon out of sight, leaving him only with the memory of her shrill voice and dull tear-filled brown eyes.

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the memory and took another large gulp of kvas to calm his nerves before looking into the fire which he sat by.

"Easy there, lad," said Mikhael, a short, stockily built, ginger haired man who was in the same division as Mal, "You don't want to be crossing the fold with a hangover. You might fall over the edge of the skiff before the volcra even get to you!"

Mal snorted and looked up at the older man, who was sitting at his side only a few inches away.

"Maybe if I'm drunk enough, I won't feel it when they tear me to bits," he said hopefully.

Mikhael laughed and clapped him on the back, "Don't worry we'll get through this. And when you come back you can try to impress that pretty Grisha girl who was only eyeing you from her coach."

"Haha I guess. I'll tell her I single handedly fought off ten volcra."

"That's the spirit, lad!'

The both of them stared at the little fire they made in front of the barracks in companionable silence, trying to stave off thoughts of the horror and death that awaited them the next morning. It was then that a reedy, dark man with shaggy hair approached them hurriedly, an ear splitting grin on his face.

"Dubrov!!" Mikhael exclaimed, happily, "We were looking all over for you! Come have a seat."

Mal shifted to make space for Dubrov on the cold ground, finding it difficult to return his unusually happy smile.

"Why do you look so ecstatic. Did you get kissed by a Grisha girl?"

The dark haired man looked at Mal and rolled his eyes, " I wish. Actually I have even better news."

Mikhael looked at him dumbly, " What's better than being kissed by a Grisha?"

"There's a very high chance we may not be marching to our deaths tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" Mal asked, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

"The commander took aside a few of the men in our division to tell us that the Sun Summoner might be aiding us in our journey across the Fold."

The other two men gaped at him in stunned silence.

Scratching his red beard, Mikhael stared at Dubrov and then back at the fire. "So the rumours must be true then."

Mal stayed silent. There had been whispers throughout Ravka about the emergence of a Sun Summoner. One who would bring Ravka out of darkness and destroy the Fold in its entirety. He had chosen to disregard such stories. The people wanted hope and it wasn't unusual for them, especially the elders, to make up fanciful and fictional tales to give the young ones hope as they grew up in a war torn country with an uncertain future. He'd learnt from young that hope only killed people rather than saved them. He was an orphan after all. He'd never really been the hopeful type. Still, Dubrov's news left a funny, giddy feeling of relief in his chest which he tried in vain to suppress.

"So the Sun Summoner's here in Kribirsk?" Mikhael was saying, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"That she is," Dubrov replied, " one of the Commander's guards caught a glimpse of her before she went into the Grisha tent. A pretty little thing dressed in black. She couldn't have been more than seventeen summers."

"Pretty and little aren't exactly what comes to mind when I think of an all powerful Sun Summoner, " the red haired man replied skeptically.

"Only repeating what I heard, Mikhael," stated Dubrov, rolling his eyes, "For all we know, she probably looks like a heavily built, six foot tall Fjerdan warrior princess. You okay, Mal?"

Looking up, Mal caught both men staring at him with puzzled expressions. He was deep in concentration. Dubrov had said the Sun Summoner couldn't have been more than seventeen summers. Alina would be around that age now. She had also been taken to Os Alta by the Grisha after passing the second examination. He realized with a start that he had had no idea what her power was exactly. Was there a possibility that she could be...No that was insane.

"Dubrov, did you happen to catch the name of the Sun Summoner by chance?" Mal said, calmly,ignoring the heavy incessant pounding of his heart.

"Well, the guard said he heard her being addressed as 'Lady Starkov' or something like that by the other Grisha. Don't know what her first name is though."

Mal squeezed his eyes shut trying to make sense of all that he had been told. So it was Alina. He'd said that she was wearing black. From what he knew, no one but the Darkling wore black. What did that mean?

"Why was she wearing black?" Mal asked more himself than the others, scratching his chin thoughtfully,"I thought only the Darkling was permitted to wear black." 

Dubrov cast an amused glance at the boy.

"Well I've heard rumours..." he trailed off, looking from Mal to Mikhael.

" What sort of rumours!?" the boy asked more forcefully than he intended to, his head snapping up abruptly.

"Oh the usual sort of rumours. The main one being that she shares not only the Darkling's colours, but also his bed."

At that Mikhael guffawed scandalously, tears of mirth glistening in his eyes, " Well who would have thought!"

Both men chuckled, oblivious to the colour draining from Mal's face and the fact that one of his hands was now clenched into a tight fist. This Darkling had been commanding the Second Army since before either he or Alina was born. He would be old and graying now. The thought of a sly silver haired creep, who had too much influence and power, taking advantage of his poor innocent friend was too much for him to bear. He fought the bile that rose within his throat and spoke up, clutching the flask of kvas in his free hand for dear life.

"Hasn't this Darkling been around for a while now?" he said, shaking his head and trying to convince himself that the rumours weren't true.

"Well that's the thing," Dubrov replied gleefully, oblivious to Mal's stormy mood and clearly enjoying discussing the topic, "I guess old men need some loving too!"

Blinded by rage and guilt, the boy stood up. He needed to find out for himself if she was okay. That the Darkling hadn't hurt her. 

"Saints Mal!" cried Mikhael, getting up with him, "What's gotten into you."

He didn't respond. Instead he forcefully tossed the flask at Dubrov, who stared at him dumbfoundedly. Without another word Mal started making his way to the other side of the military encampment where the Grisha tent was located, leaving the two men gaping in his wake.

He'd half expected someone to stop him as he walked briskly towards the silk structure, each step making it appear more foreign and intimidating than it was before. In fact, he half wished someone would stop him from attempting this madness. While some of the anger had dissipated during his walk, a range of emotions were still coursing through his veins, the most profound of which were fear and excitement. There was a slight chance he might get to see Alina again. Saints, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her. Had she missed him? Hell, did she even remember him?

Faster than he would have liked, he found himself at the entrance of the tent, facing two imposingly large charcoal clad Oprichniki, both of whom glanced at him suspiciously.

"I'm here to see Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner," Mal stated loudly, drawing himself to full height to give the illusion of confidence. Something which he didn't actually have much of now that he was here.

The Oprichniki exchanged a slightly amused glanced and the one to his left replied.

"Had a bit too much to drink now, have you lad?"

"I'm not drunk!" Mal exclaimed, wanting to stamp his feet in frustration.

"Sure you aren't," the other replied, stifling a chuckle, "I can smell the kvas on your breath from here."

The boy shot the guard a murderous glare and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. Neither of the men had made to raise their rifles which meant they didn't see him as a threat. All they saw was a drunk foolish boy blabbering nonsense. Still, this did not deter him.

"I grew up with her in Keramzin," he replied slowly, forcing himself not to grit his teeth, "My name is Malyen Orestev. She knows me."

The guards did not change their expressions.

"Can you at least, tell her I'm here?" he asked exasperatedly. 

He waited a few beats and when neither of them moved, Mal gave a yell of rage. He was done talking. They may regard him as some sort of weakling but he wasn't going to leave one of them standing tonight. 

"If you don't let me through I swear I'll-"

However before he could finish his threat, a clear, slightly irritated female voice called out from behind the tent.

"What's going on out there? I can't read with some idiot yelling like a madman right outside the tent."

The guard to the right startled and looked back at the direction in which the voice was coming from.

"Sorry miss Nazyalensky," he replied in an apologetic tone, " We're just dealing with a drunk who demands to see the Sun Summoner. Claims he grew up with her."

Before Mal could retort, a beautiful raven haired girl peeked out of the tent flap, curiosity glimmering in her sky blue eyes as she regarded Mal appraisingly. It was the same girl who had been staring at him from the blue coach as he made the march with other members of the First army up to Kribirsk. He goggled at her, momentarily forgetting why he was there in first place, then caught himself and stared instead at the guard to his right, ignoring her piercing gaze. 

"What's his name?" she asked the guards, still keeping her eyes on the boy.

"Madlyn Orestev or something like that," said the guard he was looking at, rolling his eyes, "What does it matter?"

"It's Malyen," he said through gritted teeth, shooting daggers at the man, before stealing another glance at miss Nazyalensky.

A flash of familiarity crossed her face this time. She's heard the name before, Mal thought, hope bubbling up inside his chest.

"Can you take me to see her?" Mal asked quietly, regarding the girl with caution

She hesitated for a moment but he saw a sliver of what looked like kindness warm up her cold blue eyes, before it was quickly extinguished as she turned her gaze towards the Oprichniki, then back at him. Whoever she was, it seemed like she knew Alina. Maybe she was close to her.

"Okay, fine but I'll only give you a few minutes with her. The Sun Summoner has a busy schedule."

The Oprichniki looked at her in shock.

"I don't think that's a good idea miss Nazyalensky," one of them spluttered, "He could be a spy!"

"Only a few moments ago you thought he was a drunk," she snapped, giving him such an icy glare that the large man reflexively cowered in his uniform.

Before Mal had enough time to take in the amusing scene of the guard being put in his place by a woman less than half his size, she reached out and grabbed him forcefully by the arm, leading him inside the tent. 

She made no effort to quiet her voice as she called out to the guards behind her back.

"Don't worry, if he is indeed a spy, he won't make it out of this tent alive."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now that this is finally done, I can stop torturing myself by writing in Mal's POV. For now, anyway, until he becomes useful again. Wait...Mal? Useful? Did I just use those two words in the same sentence?? I apologize for the abrupt sounding ending. I'm not very good at that. :( Anyways, enjoy!!

The interior of the Grisha tent was pleasantly warm but it was in no way cozy. Tall as a cathedral and just as wide, its expansive surfaces were covered in silks, fur rugs and cushions. It was much more inhabitable and alive than the cold spartan furnishings of the barracks.

However, as Mal gaped at the Grisha lounging on cushions in their separated compartments, sipping tea, reading or doing something else as equally boring, he couldn't shake off the pretentiousness of the place. He felt like a foreigner trespassing in an area which he clearly did not belong. In a sense he guessed he was. Did Alina feel the same way too?

"Close your mouth, you dolt!" exclaimed miss Nazyalensky as she pulled him along the aisle leading to a pavillion, with a surprisingly strong grip, "I'm not to be responsible if you swallow a fly and choke to death."

Mal snorted, "Are you always this rude?"

The girl looked back at him, her impossibly long dark lashes casting a seductive shadow across her eyes, "I can be rude in many other ways, Orestev."

He shot her a stunned glance. Was she really flirting with him? She had just insulted him moments before. What an odd woman, he thought. For all he knew, instead of carrying him to meet Alina, she was probably going to drag him into some shadowy corner of the Grisha tent and have her way with him. Not that he would mind, he mused to himself as he surveyed her lithe form enveloped in a kefta of midnight blue. Whatever lay in the very near future, he hoped it would be a win-win situation for him.

She carried him beyond the pavillion which he saw had intricately carved wooden chairs around a table littered with pieces of parchment and maps of Ravka. He suppressed a shiver as his eye caught the empty chair made of the blackest ebony, ever so slightly out of place in the centre of the table. He knew, without a doubt, who that chair belonged to.

Miss Nazyalensky parted a pair of thick, heavy silk curtains that had lain a few steps beyond the pavillion and ushered him quickly inside. He found himself in what looked like a private sitting room covered with more rugs and cushions. Beyond that lay another pair of silk curtains which were black, guarded by two more charcoal clad Oprichniki. On the black fabric, Mal could faintly make out the Darkling's symbols embroidered in gold; a sun in eclipse. He needed no explanation as to where those curtains led. A sinking feeling invaded his stomach as he realized Alina was most likely beyond those curtains. So the rumours must be true then.

"Lady Starkov has her own quarters within the Darkling's compartment," the raven haired girl said, as if reading his thoughts, "They don't share quarters."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Mal responded by nodding to her, his eyes trained instead on the Oprichniki guarding the entrance to the Darkling's private compartment.

She released him from her vice-like grip and turned around to face him, her eyes now glittering dangerously.

"I'm going to talk to the guards for you to get an audience with the Sun Summoner," she stated quietly, a warning evident in her voice, " If you so much as move I will not hesitate to bash in that pleasantly rogueish face of yours. Understand, Orestev?'

"Understood ma'am," Mal said seriously, giving her a curt nod.

Whoever this girl was, he was constantly getting the vibe that she was not to be messed with, no matter how seemingly harmless she looked. She was Grisha after all. She had no need for brute force. Mal was sure she could violently end his life with a flick of her wrist.

Elegantly, she turned and squared her slim shoulders as she walked towards the guards. She whispered something to the one on the left and he cast a raised eyebrow at Mal who was trying his best to stand as still as a statue.

Perspiration beaded the boy's forehead as he felt his heart pounding at a merciless pace. Would the guards really listen to the sharp tongued girl and allow him to see Alina? Would she even want to see him? 

His shallow gasps of anxiety gave way to a sigh of relief as he saw the guard give miss Nazyalensky a short bow and disappeared swiftly between the black curtains.

With a smirk that suggested she was proud of her influence, the girl turned and made her way to the corner of the sitting room to pour herself a cup of tea from a samovar. She then gracefully plopped herself down on one of the cushions and motioned for him to sit next to her.

"The Oprichnik's gone to fetch her, " she explained at his puzzled glance, " that might take a while depending on how much paperwork she has to do. So we must wait."

Cautiously Mal made his way over to where she was sitting and lowered himself beside her.

"She does paperwork?" he asked dumbly.

"Yes, " the girl replied, giving him an exaggerated eyeroll, "She needs to be involved in the politics of the country. It's part of her training."

She then lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I think it's also an excuse for the Darkling to dump some of his workload on her."

"I see," Mal replied thoughtfully, praying to the Saints that the workload was the only type of load the Darkling was giving Alina. Why was he even thinking that, he thought, scowling inwardly, shaking his head to rid himself of his wayward musings.

He shifted in his seat and tried to distract himself by making conversation with the icy eyed beauty next to him.

"So...my name seemed familiar to you. What exactly has Alina told you about me?"

"Not much that I can remember," she said, refusing to return to his gaze. He had the slight suspicion that she wasn't exactly telling the truth.

"What can you remember, " he pressed on, a playful smile spreading across his lips as he leaned closer towards her.

She turned and finally met his gaze, smiling sweetly.

"Well she did tell me that she remembered you as a pudgy boy who was afraid of baths."

That definitely wiped the smile off his face.

"She told you that!?" he exclaimed holding his head in horror, embarrassment coursing through his body in waves.

Miss Nazyalensky gave a high tinkering laugh, "Don't you dare die from a deflated ego in this sitting room. I'm not going to drag that heavy body of yours all the way outside."

Her words were, of course, insulting but her tone lacked the venom needed to make it anywhere near offensive and Mal found himself laughing along with her.

"I won't die," he replied, still snickering at the girl's odd sense of humour, " I promise."

"That better be true."

It was not the girl sitting next to him who replied, but a younger, softer voice to the front of him where the black curtains had parted.

An ivory skinned girl with waves of glittering honey brown hair, clad in a fitted black kefta, stared down at them, her mahogany eyes warm and gentle. The guards had both disappeared beyond the curtains, having been silently dismissed.

She may have been the opposite of Miss Nazyalensky in terms of looks but she was just as beautiful and Mal couldn't help but gape at her as stupidly as he did when he first saw the girl sitting next to him from the window of her coach. Beyond the smooth almost flawless visage he could still make out the features of the friend he had known so well and it comforted him more than he realized.

She seemed to be fighting a smile as her gazed lingered on him and drifted to the girl beside him.

"What were you thinking bringing him here, Zoya?" she exclaimed, her tone still gentle, obviously trying to look composed.

Zoya shrugged and got to her feet, " He was only yelling and causing a commotion outside of the tent while I was trying to read. It was either bring him here to see you or knock him out with my book."

"Are you sure you haven't hit him on the head with your book," Alina replied, staring at Mal again, the corners of her lips lifting, "he seems rather dazed."

"Now I'm wishing I did, " sniffed Zoya hotly, "Stand up, Orestev. You're in the presence of the Sun Summoner."

Almost immediately, he shook himself out of his stupor and got to his feet, never taking his eyes off of the brown haired girl.

"Alina," he replied simply, trying his best not to let his eyes roam over the full curves of her breasts and hips, accentuated by the kefta.

Whatever they were feeding her had worked in her favour. She was no longer thirteen and no longer skin and bones. She now had the body of a woman. A very fine woman.

They stared at each other, Alina giving him the same appraising gaze Zoya had given him earlier. Tentatively, he walked towards her until they were only a few feet apart.

"Aren't you going to give me a hug?" he said teasingly, spreading his arms wide, "Ana Kuya would be disappointed to know that you've forgotten your manners."

This earned him a hard playful punch on the shoulder followed by a warm, soft hug. Out of respect for his friend, he tried not to think of the fact that her lush curves were pressed up against his body but it was hopeless. She smelled faintly of lavender and he found himself inhaling the scent. 

Too soon, however, she pulled away and stepped back, with her lips pressed, giving them a considerable distance from each other. He could see that the dark circles that had plagued her since childhood had not completely vanished but had turned into faint dark smudges below her eyes. They added to her allure instead of taking away from it.

"It was nice seeing you again, Mal " she said sincerely, giving him a slight soft smile, "but you should go now. The Darkling will be back at any moment."

At the mention of the Darkling, he remembered what he came here to find out and, ignoring her words, he reached out and grasped her arms, gently and reassuringly.

"The Darkling, has he-has he...touched you?" He asked making sure the concern was evident in his voice.

A choking sound emanated from behind them and Mal turned to see Zoya, who had resumed sitting on the cushions, spitting out her tea, doubled over in a fit of giggles. Confused, he turned back to Alina, only to see that she had turned beet red.

"No Mal," she stammered, "he hasn't...touched me."

She looked at her feet rather than at him as she said this. Judging by her reaction, Mal concluded that either she was lying or that she wasn't and it was just out of modesty. He hoped to the Saints that it was the latter.

Zoya was still snickering in the background, probably biting down on her sharp tongue to stop herself from perhaps committing some sort of treason. To his surprise Alina herself let out a little nervous giggle and bent and threw a cushion at Zoya, which hit her square on the head, momentarily stunning her.

"Be quiet, you!"

The raven haired girl instead gave her an exaggerated pout before another cascade of giggles erupted from her mouth.

Trying to make sense of the scene, Mal looked from Alina to Zoya and scratched his head. They were acting like...well how girls their age usually acted when discussing someone that they were infatuated with. His mind drifted to the Darkling. Surely a considerably aged military official such as him shouldn't be able to inspire such a reaction from two very young and beautiful Grisha women, no matter how rich or powerful he may be.

Alina shook her head but the mirth in her face was gone as she looked over Mal's shoulder. Her eyes became as wide as saucers and her expression quickly transitioned into one of shock and horror. Due to her change in demeanor, Mal could only guess who, or what, was standing behind him as he slowly turned to face the entry way to the sitting room. He barely registered that Zoya was, once again, on her feet, her expression mirroring Alina's.

All three of them gaped at the man before them dressed in a kefta of the blackest night which clashed with his almost unnaturally pale skin. This can't be him, Mal thought as he surveyed the Darkling, he's too young. With a tinge of what felt like jealousy, he also noted that he was ridiculously handsome, with a jawline and cheekbones that looked as if they were chiselled out of the finest marble and a shock of thick wavy hair as dark as his kefta. His eyes were a glimmering quartz grey, resembling a frozen lake as they took in the sight before them with measured collectiveness. A young man dressed in a red and black kefta with copper coloured curls and a slight sneer stood behind the man, looking almost as menancing and ready to strike down the lone non-Grisha occupant in the sitting room.

"Well," stated the Darkling, his cool gaze drifting from Mal to Zoya and resting on Alina, "Who allowed a stranger into my tent?"

His tone was almost pleasant and matter of fact. Like if he was talking about the weather. However, his eyes glinted dangerously as he took in the sight of the still horrified Sun Summoner. Mal suddenly felt more afraid for Alina than himself.

"It was me, moi soverenyi," Zoya piped up, her head bowed, unable to meet those bleak grey eyes, "I brought him here myself."

"Only after I told her to, " Alina interjected quickly, her fearful expression changing to one of defiance as she held her chin up to meet the Darkling's gaze, "His name's Malyen Orestev. I grew up with him in Keramzin. I heard that his division was stationed in Kribirsk and since I'm not allowed out of the tent on my own, I asked Zoya to bring him here."

Zoya's jaw dropped but she quickly closed it as the Darkling cast a glance at her then at Mal again who tried his best not to look surprised. Alina was blatantly and unashamedly lying to the man. He didn't know whether he wanted to clap her on the back for her bravery or tap her on her head for her stupidity.

"If anyone is to be punished," she added softly, casting her eyes downwards, "it should be me."

Thinking it to be a trick of the lamplight, he saw a flash of what looked like hunger light up the granite depths of the Darkling's eyes as he scrutinized the brown haired girl closely. To the boy's surprise, those quartz eyes traveled down the length of her body in a way that made him feel increasingly uncomfortable. Mal realized with a sinking heart that, by the way he was looking at her, the man had seen Alina much more intimately than he ever would. Jealousy and rage suddenly bubbled up inside him but he tried to suppress it and bit his tongue so he wouldn't say anything stupid. 

He was also starting to dislike how the Darkling, for the most part, ignored him as if he was a speck of dust floating around in the room. 

A few beats passed when the man finally replied, satisfied that they had squirmed and fidgeted enough in his company.

"No one will be punished," he stated, his tone unchanging, not taking his eyes off Alina, "He is your friend after all."

Deliberately, he placed mocking emphasis on the word 'friend,' which caused the Sun Summoner to flush lightly as she continued to look down at her fingers.

Finally, the Darkling exerted the rest of his attention to Mal, his expression distant and unreadable as he took a few steps towards the boy to close the distance between them.

Fighting off the urge back away, Mal stood stock still with his shoulders squared before remembering his training. Shuttering his face, he gave a short stiff bow. 

"Moi soverenyi," he said, ignoring the smirk of the copper haired man who was still standing behind the Darkling.

He may not like the man at all but he was still the leader of the Second Army and also the second most powerful man in all of Ravka. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and respect that title, especially if it meant the possibility of seeing Alina again.

Shockingly the man extended a large gloved hand which Mal stared at dumbfoundedly for a beat before taking it. The Darkling's face was expressionless but there was a warning in his eyes. Stay away from her, they said, stay away or there will be consequences. He suppressed the fear making its way up into his blue eyes and reflexively tried to pull his hand away but the man's grip was too strong.

"You're a tracker aren't you?" he whispered, tightening his hold on Mal's hand.

"Yes, moi soverenyi," he replied, trying his best to remain calm.

"Are you any good at it?"

If Mal hadn't been so terrified, he would have laughed in disbelief. Were they really having a discussion about his tracking skills?

"I...guess I'm alright at it," he replied hesitantly, not knowing where the Darkling was going with this, "it comes naturally to me."

To say that he was alright at tracking was, of course an understatement. He was easily the best tracker in his division and the men constantly told him that he could make rabbits out of rocks. However, he didn't think that boasting about his proficiency in catching foxes and rabbits to a powerful Grisha like the Darkling would be a good idea.

Almost immediately, Mal felt the pressure from the man's grip being lifted from his hand as he stepped back and gave him a curt nod. 

"Thank you, Orestev," he replied smoothly, "that will be all."

Before Mal could say anything else, the Darkling gestured to the copper haired man behind him.

"Ivan, please accompany our...visitor to the front of the tent."

Nodding, Ivan walked over to the boy and grabbed him unceremoniously by the arm while the Darkling turned to face Zoya.

"Miss Nazyalensky, please make your way back to the Summoner's compartment," he said unwaveringly, "I would like to have a word with Lady Starkov in private."

As he was led to the entrance of the sitting room with an unsually silent Zoya at his tail, Mal turned quickly and caught a glimpse of Alina. Her pretty brown eyes were wide, shining with something that looked like fear and anticipation, as she timidly looked at the Darkling, who had moved closer towards her, his back turned to him.

Before he could shout a farewell to her or even make sense of what he had seen, the boy was tugged forcefully out of the sitting room by an impatient Ivan, while Zoya slipped out behind them. She closed the curtains tightly behind her before moving on, blocking his view and leaving him to wonder what exactly was taking place, or about to take place, between the Darkling and Alina on the other side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is done in both Alina and the Darkling's POV. It will switch from time to time. ALSO this is VERY detailed and explicit chapter with alot of erm...stuff so this is just a warning to you folks out there. And yes there is knife play but there is no actual cutting or torture. I'm not that sadistic. Do enjoy!! Feedback and comments are appreciated, as always. :)

Alina had barely registered that Mal had been taken away when she was pushed roughly to the ground by a pair of large, gloved hands. Letting out a little squeak of pain and fright, as the air rushed out of her lungs, she stared apprehensively at the man who had forced her down.

The Darkling was looming over her, his eyes flashing with anger, cutting into her very being like a sharp, steel sword, his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. Shivering, she knew what was about to happen next.

"I thought you said that there would be no punishment," she rasped, her dry throat, preventing her from talking any louder.

"I lied," he said simply, the line of his mouth turning slightly into a sneer, "the same way you lied only moments ago to protect the Squaller."

"Zoya only wanted to help me," she cried, biting back tears as feelings of loneliness resurfaced, piercing her heart, "I'm not allowed to go anywhere on my own. You treat me like a prisoner rather than a Grisha!"

Almost immediately, Alina regretted answering him back in that way. Her emotions had gotten the better of her and if she had had any hope of surviving his anger unscathed before, it had all been crushed by her careless outburst.

She flinched when she looked back up at him. The slight sneer was still there but his eyes had been replaced by something icy and hard. He looked like a man who was ready to discipline or torture. A cold and unfeeling creature, which petrified her much more than his anger.

"I have given you everything," he whispered, the menace barely noticeable in his voice, "Shelter and clothes, unimaginable power and a title, yet, you choose to repay me with childish whining."

She sputtered, trying to find something to say, but her throat closed in on itself and she found herself swallowing painfully instead.

Suddenly, he gave her a mocking smile, his eyes still cold and hard, "That _otkazat'sya_  of yours has been a bad influence, Alina."

He paused and gave a slight shake of his head.

"You say I treat you like a prisoner," he continued after a tension filled beat, "perhaps it's time I showed you the difference."

Before she knew it she was being pulled up painfully by her hair and steered into the Darkling's private compartments, which was split into three sections: his personal quarters, the guards' quarters and Alina's quarters. She knew he was taking her to his quarters.

Fighting back a grimace, she tried silently signalling to the Oprichniki for assistance, with tear filled brown eyes, as they passed them guarding the entrance to the room. However they remained staring down at her, their faces blank and impassive as stone.

She found herself, once again being pushed roughly to the floor, the fall jarring her small frame as she landed on a large black fur rug resting in the middle of the room. She was sobbing openly now, a mixture of fear and pain and she turned away, refusing to let the Darkling see her now tear stained face.

There was a time when she would have never thought she would find herself in a situation like this. The Darkling had been seducing her with sweet promises and stolen kisses the moment she had entered the Little Palace. Like the lonely silly, naive girl she was, she had enjoyed his attention and did not even hesitate when he had wanted to finally make her his. She had always known that he was not a man to be trusted but never had she known, until a few months ago, that there was this side to him. The side that relished completely conquering and possessing her. What terrified her the most, however, was not him, but the fact that her body seemed to enjoy and crave his possession, like the heady, bittersweet taste of fine wine. It was too late for her to run anywhere but into his arms, and he knew it. He owned her entirely

"If only your _otkazat'sya_  could see you now," he was saying, now circling her like a shark about to consume its prey, "crawling at my feet, crying and begging me for mercy."

She made to sit upright but he came up to her and pushed her back down by pressing his boot against her stomach.

"If only he knew how much you enjoy it."

His smile was humourless, matching the two shards of glass that had become his eyes as he pressed down harder unto her, slowly pushing the air out of her lungs, forcing her to gasp for breath.

Slowly and deliberately, he unsheathed a thin, medium sized knife from his sleeve, slightly larger than a dagger but still easy to conceal. The blade, Alina knew, as she watched in horror as it glinted in the lamplight, was made of Grisha steel, the bite of which stung much more than normal  _otkazat'sya_ steel. Like all Fabrikator work, it was beautifully hand crafted with complex embellishments on the blade itself and a blunt hilt made out of the darkest ebony, studded with tiny golden knobs. Its intricacy, however, paled in her fearful mind as she swallowed, her breath still being restricted by his boot. He was going to torture her. Images raced through her mind of him holding her down and flaying her, section by section, while she screamed, helplessly and in agony.

A garbled sound which seemed like a mixture of a sob and a plea escaped her throat as she stared into the bleak yawning fissure of his eyes. His mirthless smile widened as he saw the effect his weapon had on her. He was going to savour every moment of this.

Without taking his eyes off of hers, he released his foot from her stomach and lowered himself to hover over her, his knees bent on either side of her body, trapping her with his large, lean frame.

"Keep your hands at your sides, " he commanded, raising the point of the knife to rest right in front of her face, threatening her.

"If you do exactly as I say, we will get this over with much faster," he added in a mockingly reassuring tone.

New tears spilled from her mahogany eyes, disappearing into her wavy hair and she clutched the fur of the rug, hating herself for letting him do this to her.

Removing the knife from in front of her face, he lowered it to her kefta and, with one swift swipe, cut through it and ripped it open, scattering the buttons. Alina squeezed her eyes shut as he motioned to do the same with her shirt, knowing that the only thing separating her from the bite of his knife was the thin cotton. Miraculously, or, rather, because of his meticulous control, she felt neither the steel nor its sting as he forced open her shirt, revealing her pale, full breasts. He paused for a moment, his eyes hungrily taking in the view of her exposed torso, before he made his way lower to deal with her breeches.

With a wicked glint in his eye, he pressed the steel of the knife gently over the crotch of the pants, causing Alina to gasp in horror.

"N-no please, moi soverenyi," she pleaded, barely able to contain her sobs, "please not there."

Other than the flicker of satisfaction in his gaze at being addressed by his title, he ignored her and, with another skillful, precise swipe, cut open the crotch of her pants, as well as her undergarments, without ever grazing the sensitive flesh underneath. Resting the knife on the flat plane of her stomach, he ripped open the breeches and undergaments until they were nothing but sorry rags hanging off the ends of her legs.

As terrified as she was and still feeling the cool metal of the blade against her skin, Alina couldn't help but feel her centre warming by his actions, making moisture pool in the sinful area between her thighs. This wasn't right at all. Something was clearly wrong with her for her to be gaining enjoyment from his humiliating and degrading treatment. She let out a sob of shame and frustration. What had he done to her?

"Shhh," he whispered, hovering over her once more and pressing a finger to her lips.

Immediately she quieted herself and bit down hard on her lip as he traced the finger tantalizingly down to her neck and down the valley of her breasts, finally coming to a stop at where he had rested the knife.

With a horrified tremor, Alina watched as he brought the blade flat on the pink nipple of her left breast and rested it there for a beat, before he moved the point, gently and cautiously, across her skin to the next nipple. The cold steel hardened them, leaving them extremely sensitive. The sensation, to her surprise, felt good. Erotic even, if it wasn't for the fact that it was coming from the blade of a very sharp knife. The Darkling seemed to know what he was doing. The intention was not to cut her, but to tease her and, judging by the slick wet feeling between her thighs, it was working.

Still, it didn't stop the heavy hammering of her heart when he traced the point down to the mound of her sex. His brow was furrowed ever so slightly in concentration, clearly enraptured in what he was doing. However, a slight smirk graced his lips as he pressed the blade flat against her glistening outer lips, feeling the soft, heated flesh warm up the steel.

Alina stayed stock still as he did this, knowing that if she so much as squirmed, she could get cut and she wasn't fond of the idea of getting cut with Grisha steel down _there_. After a few beats, he moved the knife, which was coated slightly in her juices, away from her most private of areas and wiped it on the inside of her thigh before resheathing it, much to the her relief.

Seeing her expression, he arched an eyebrow and made to hover over her face, clutching her slim neck between his hand, enjoying the way her innocent brown eyes widened, once more, with fear.

"I'm not done with you yet, Alina," his voice came out as a slight growl, "I have yet to mark you as my own."

With that, he released his hold on her neck and reached down to grasp her breasts while he brought his face down towards hers, gracing her with a deep, open mouthed and invasive kiss. She moaned into him, deepening the kiss, enjoying the plush, velvety feel of the inside of his mouth and the smoothness of his gloved fingers on her chest.

Too soon, however, he broke the kiss and moved one of his hands up to her hair, grasping her head back as far as it could go, leaving her throat and collarbone completely exposed to him. Wasting no time, he began to ravish her with his lips, teeth and tongue making her gasp in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he bit into her soft flesh, marking his territory. In the morning everyone would know that she belonged only to him. Especially that insufferable tracker friend of hers who had only kept staring at her body. He'd seen the way she had looked at the boy as well, and he was having none of it. She needed to be reminded of her place and to whom she belonged.

He didn't stop the onslaught of his mouth as he reached her breasts, if anything he became even more ferocious. Both of his hands were grasping her hair now and she shuddered violently against him, arching her back as he sucked on her nipples until they were red and swollen, leaving bite marks on the sides of her breasts.

Finally, he let her go and drew back from her, silently admiring his handiwork. Red marks dotted her smooth pale skin all the way from her neck to the undersides of her breasts. He knew that in the morning his marks would look even more spectacular and there was no way she would be able to hide them.

Alina, however, wasn't considering that. She'd lost her breath somewhere along the line, as well as her mind, unable to process a thought as he worshiped her with his mouth. She was soaked now and all she wanted or cared about was him. She wanted _more_.

As if reading her thoughts, the Darkling reached below her, still wearing his gloves, and cupped her sex, circling the sweetest part of her with his thumb. She let out a moan and bit her lips, raising her hips to meet his long skillful fingers. She was so deliciously wet and he had no problems sliding two of his fingers into her, one after the other, stretching her slightly and causing her to whimper with delight.

With one hand, he unbuttoned his kefta and unfastened his breeches, taking out his painfully hard erection, as he lazily pushed his fingers in and out of her. Alina's eyes widened, as was always the case, when she took in the impressive sight. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips and her eyes became heavy lidded, causing the Darkling to emit a low chesty growl. She was such a naughty little girl.

Pulling his fingers out and ignoring her whine of protest, he watched her as he stroked his length,coating it with her juices. Her lips parted as she took in the flagrantly erotic sight and she felt more moisture shamelessly leaking out of her. In one quick movement, he grasped her by her legs, put them over his shoulder and pushed into her dripping entrance, burying himself deep within her.

A cry of both pleasure and pain tore through her at his not so gentle entry and her walls rippled around him, trying desperately to accommodate his size. She was gloriously tight and plush, her insides squeezing him with just the right amount of pressure.

Grabbing hold of her hips, he started pumping into her,quickly increasing the pace of his thrusts, causing the most obscene and desperate sounds to emanate from her throat. Alina barely registered that her hands were no longer at her sides as the Darkling had commanded. Instead, they had flown to grasp the taut peaks of her nipples while her breasts bounced tantalizingly in tandem with his aggressive rhythm. He made no move to stop her. On the contrary, he enjoyed the view, satisfied that he had caused her to become so undone.

She felt herself tightening around him and knew that her release was near, Clutching at her swollen breasts, she arched her neck and closed her eyes whimpering at how perfectly he filled her. Everything around them had become a blur in her mind except for the image and feel of him thrusting into her and she didn't care if anyone could hear her moans and screams of ecstasy.

However, as her climax was about to tear through her, he pulled himself out, leaving her empty and wanting. She gasped and sobbed in frustration trying to lift herself up and back unto him but he firmly held her down, a look of warning in his slate coloured eyes. She stopped moving but couldn't help the pitiful whines surfacing from her throat, her brain not permitting her to form actual words.

"You're still being punished, Alina," he rasped, "Did you forget that?"

He leaned towards her face and put his gloved right hand in front of her.

"Take them off," he commanded coolly, responding to her bemused expression.

She made to raise her hands, but he swatted them away.

"With you mouth," he added, a glimmer of satisfaction flashing across his eyes as she bit her lip and flushed in humiliation.

Gingerly, she took the leather between her teeth and began the laborious task of pulling off his glove without the help of her hands, making sure that she didn't accidentally bite him, though she wanted to quite badly. She knew he was trying to prolong her state of wanting and she cursed him inwardly for his cruelty.

He raised the other hand towards her lips after she was done with the first and she repeated the process, glaring at his now cool and impassive face. She spat the black material to the side to rest with the other but, before the Darkling could move his hand away, she passed her tongue along the underside of his pale palm, enjoying the salty taste of him and seeing his slate eyes flicker as he took in the sight. Though he tried not to show it, those minuscule reactions gave her a gist as to how much he was truly affected by her.

His hands roamed over her skin and she squirmed as it opened the connection of power between them again. Before she could form another coherent thought, however, he shrugged her legs off his shoulder and grasped her waist, swiftly turning her so that she was bent over on her hands and knees. Alina felt the soft fur tickle her cheek as she was pushed almost face down into the rug while her rear remained in the air, giving him full access to her glistening sex from behind.

She wasn't prepared for the bone jarring slap she received on the cheek of her buttocks or the one after that. She squealed in pain and tried to shy away as he continued to spank her, his large, heavy hand leaving red imprints on the soft pale flesh, but the grip he now had on her neck was too strong. He was marking her there too.

Her sobs and gasps of pain turned into a long drawn out moan as he slid back into her with one final slap that made the flesh on her thighs quiver violently. This time, his pace was slow and intense, as if he was trying to savour the soft, heated feel of her. With every thrust, he slammed into her, pushing his cock as deep as it could possibly go. Leaning over, he brushed the brown tresses off her back, exposing her neck.

"When I'm done with you," he hissed into her ear, "you will still feel my presence inside you every time you move. Every time that tracker looks at you, he will know that you are mine. I will make sure neither you nor he forgets that."

Alina's eyes rolled into her head, barely heeding his words while he continued to stroke the spot inside her, that gave her the utmost pleasure, with his sizable length. She felt herself tightening up again as he held her down and her walls desperately grasped at him, trying to chase a much needed orgasm. However as soon as he felt her contracting, he pulled out of her again, smirking cruelly at the muffled screams of frustration that emanated from the rug. She struggled against him, shrieking and acting like a child throwing a tantrum, but his grip held fast. He slid himself back in with a sharp thrust, enjoying the reactions he was getting from her and pulled out again. He repeated this a few times before he finally came inside her, filling her up with copious amounts of his seed.

Pulling out of her for the last time, he took in the sight of his cum oozing out of the very pink, sensitive flesh and dripping down her shaking thighs. She fell gracelessly unto the rug and began sobbing in earnest, feeling as if she would go insane if she didn't get her release.

"Have you learnt your lesson Alina?" he said, watching her head shudder with desperate cries as her limbs lay limp on the rug.

She slowly turned back to look at him, hating how calm and composed he looked while her tear stained face was red and blotchy. Swallowing the little bit of pride she had left, she gave him the most pleading look she could muster and nodded.

"Yes, moi soverenyi," she said through short gasps of breath, "please allow me to cum."

"Will you lie to me or answer me back again?"

"No, moi soverenyi, I will not, I promise," she replied as earnestly as possible.

His eyes bore into hers for a few beats, piercing into her very soul. Finally, he spoke.

"Very well then. I will have you know that if you are caught lying to me again, I will not be as lenient as I was tonight."

His quartz grey eyes glimmered with a sort of sadistic light and he, once again, unsheathed the knife. Alina's eyes widened and her face contorted in a mixture of fear and frustration. What was he going to do to her now?

"Turn around," he ordered, passing his thumb and index finger slowly across the blade, almost like a caress.

Apprehensively, she turned to lie on her back, her brown eyes hazed over by conflicting emotions of fear and arousal. He loved how he made her question her very being. Not only had he marked and possessed her, but he had corrupted her. He'd fostered and honed her deepest and darkest desires so that now only _he_ could give her what she truly needed.

"How badly do you want to cum, Alina?" he asked in an almost pleasant, conversational tone.

"Very badly," she almost whimpered, the pleading look once again gracing her flushed face.

She spread her legs wide for him so that he could see how needy she was and he suppressed a smug smirk. He'd made this innocent little Sun Summoner into his very own personal, wanton whore.

"You have my permission to cum, however," he paused and gave her a slow predatory grin as he made to hand her his knife, hilt first, "you have to pleasure yourself with this."

She glanced up at him then at the knife, and felt like bursting into new tears of anger and humiliation. He'd tortured her enough. Why was he doing this to her?

However, the lust threatened to explode inside her, as she stared at the knife, eclipsing the rest of her emotions. Slowly and carefully, she took it from his hands.

"Be careful, Alina," he crooned, in mocking concern, "it's sharp. Don't accidentally cut yourself."

Her grip tightened on the hilt and she felt like stabbing him with the knife instead, but the look of warning in his eyes as well as her need for release dissuaded her. Gingerly, she began to insert the blunt hilt, his seed as well as her juices providing enough lubrication for it to slide easily inside her. The feeling was both foreign and familiar. The hilt was obviously nowhere near as large as the Darkling but it hit the spot she needed and the small golden studs dotting it provided her with a strange, but not unpleasant, sensation. It was awkward holding the knife so that she wouldn't get cut, as she began to thrust the end of the hilt in and out of her. As she grew accustomed to it, however, she lay her head down and gave herself over to the waves of pleasure reverberating through her body, moaning softly.

A quiet, almost indiscernible grunt made her look up and she saw the Darkling stroking his length, unashamedly, as he regarded her movements. Slowly, their eyes met and Alina bit her lips, giving him the most seductive look she could muster. The look she received was raw and primal, a glimpse of the man he truly was underneath the impassive mask.

Crawling up to her face, he eased his erection against her lips, and, with a groan, she greedily took him in her mouth, enjoying his rich, salty taste. He knew he wasn't going to last too long with her feverishly sucking on him while he took in the incredibly arousing sight of her pleasuring herself with the hilt of his knife. His gaze traveled upwards and drifted to her breasts before closing his eyes and fisting her hair, giving in to the feeling of her tongue wrapping around his cock. He was going to mark her as his territory again.

As he was about to climax, he pulled out quickly and blew his load all over her bite mark-ridden chest, covering her breasts with his sperm. The sight and warm feel of his load slowly running down her chest was enough to send Alina over the edge. With a sharp cry, she closed her eyes as her orgasm ripped through her burning core, imagining the studded hilt, inside her contracting walls, to be the length of the man who was breathing heavily before her.

As she lay there, feeling the waves of pleasure dissipate into a dull throb of satisfaction, she felt movement at her side and gasped as the Darkling pried her hands away from the knife and gently took it out of her. Leaning over, he pressed the now glistening hilt to her lips.

"Clean it," he commanded.

He'd fixed his breeches already and, other than the beads of perspiration that dotted his pale forehead, he looked as he always did. Cool, distant and unaffected, though he had been the opposite of that just moments ago.

Flinching at his unwavering tone, Alina obediently opened her mouth and sucked on the hilt thoroughly, tasting a mixture of his seed as well as her juices. She felt so incredibly dirty as she did this. It was a shameful feeling. One that she couldn't decide whether she loved or hated. What she did know, however, as the haze of arousal lifted from her mind, was that she hated herself, even more than she hated him, for having taken pleasure in this sick game of his. He'd made her into a monster and she was beyond saving now.

Taking the hilt of the knife out of her mouth, the Darkling inspected it to make sure she'd done a thorough job and, to Alina's surprise, instead of resheathing it, he handed it back to her. Numbly, she took it and glanced at him, the confusion evident on her face.

Drawing himself to full height he glanced down at her, smoothly buttoning up his kefta, as collective as ever.

"Keep it," he responded, gesturing to the knife in her trembling hands, "it's yours now."

"T-thank you, moi soverenyi," she whispered, incredulously and she grabbed the knife tightly in her palms. It was odd for him to reward her with something after a punishment, especially with something as stunning and sentimental as his own knife.

"Let that be a reminder as to who you belong to," he said pleasantly, his lips quirking into a half smile, "it's also your reward for being such an apt pupil. Grisha steel is earned after all."

Her jaw dropped as she registered the wicked glint in his slate grey eyes and she dropped the knife as if it burnt her. With that, he smoothly turned his back to her.

"I have work to attend to, Alina. I suggest you retire to your quarters soon. You need rest for your demonstration on the Fold tomorrow."

He paused and turned his head over his shoulder, giving her a quick once over.

"And do clean yourself up, " he added, "you can't go to sleep looking like such a mess."

She closed her gaping mouth and huffed at him indignantly, making him suppress a smirk as she crossed her hands over her chest, only to wince as she remembered that the remnants of his load was still trickling down her torso.

Before she could rescue the shreds of her remaining dignity with a snappy retort, he turned on his heel and swiftly walked away, leaving her staring, in a mixture of shame and horror, at his receding back as he was enveloped into the rippling darkness of the silk curtains, a shadow more elusive than the blackest night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, no brown haired, orphan girls were harmed in the making of this fic...unless you count hickeys and love bites *snickers* oh and spank marks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took me so long to update this you guys. I had to keep checking the books to make sure the details were accurate enough and I also didn't realize I finished this particular chapter without posting *hides face* Anyways hope you enjoy!! Feedback as always is appreciated <3

 

Alina never thought she could hate the Darkling anymore than she did now. Giving an exasperated grunt, she tilted the mirror she was holding and examined the damage done to her neck in the lamplight. Reddish purple bruises had bloomed on the soft flesh overnight, like ripe plums against an ivory canvas, trailing all the way down to her breasts. She hadn't inspected _those_ yet but, judging by the tingling sensitivity in her chest area, she was sure they were in an even worse state. Not even her highest collared kefta would completely hide this.

As she gingerly moved to get out of her bedroll, her body creaked in protest, awakening a soreness deep in her centre. He'd used her well, that was for sure. He'd made sure she would feel the effects of his brutal treatment long after he was done with her. She felt the heat pool between her legs as she thought about the events of the previous night and waves of desire reverberated through her thoroughly used and bruised body. For a moment she debated whether she should just lay back on the bedroll and slip her hand in her undergarments to quickly deal with her heightening arousal but she heard the Darkling's chiding voice in her head.

"Your pleasure is mine my naughty insatiable little Sun Summoner. Do you want to find out what happens to little girls when they don't obey their masters?"

Alina didn't really want to find out. The man's punishments were the epitome of cruel and unusual, especially when it came to her. Shaking her head, as if to get rid of her wanton thoughts, she got up and took a few deep breaths, clearing her mind for the task ahead of her. Today would be the day she would reveal herself to all of Ravka as the Sun Summoner, with a special demonstration on the Fold. She wouldn't be going into the Unsea itself, but would be using her powers to concentrate enough light to part it just enough to make a narrow passageway in which the skiffs could pass safely into West Ravka.

All of her years of training with Baghra had prepared her for this but she still felt slightly nervous. What if she wasn't strong enough? Unlike most of the very favoured Grisha that made up the Darkling's elite entourage, Alina did not yet have an amplifier. Everytime she'd brought this topic up with him he would wave her off giving her vague responses that he had a particular, and very powerful, amplifier in mind.

Before she could overthink herself into a frenzied and worried mess however, she heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Ivan standing at the entrance to her compartment, wearing that ridiculous smirk as usual. It only widened when he realized that she was still dressed in her low cut nightdress, her love bites and bruises on full display.

"Had fun last night?" he asked, barely able to keep his grin in check, "I can't wait to see the tracker's face when he sees that."

"Shut up," she muttered, blushing furiously as she turned away from him, folding her arms over her chest.

"As much as I know you'd like to stand there sulking, you haven't got much time. People are already lining up to witness your demonstration, Sankta."

Alina started at the new title and although she knew Ivan was mocking her, it still felt odd to be referred to as a Saint, even in jest. As far as she knew, she was not some blessed, pure being that could turn water into wine or balls of lint into kittens. However, the average Ravkan didn't know that.

"I know," she replied with a sigh, "Just let me change into my kefta and have a cup of tea."

She gave him a dismissive wave with her hand, similar to the Darkling's and she half expected the Heartrender to laugh at her and tease her some more. To her surprise however, he gave a short bow and exited the room without another word.

She washed her face, dressed and had her tea, calculating the best way to let her hair fall so that it would cover most of her bruises as she walked. When she was satisfied, she swept out of the room to meet Ivan who was waiting for her behind the curtains. Silently, they made their way out of the Grisha tent and were immediately flanked by half a dozen Oprichniki. The Darkling was nowhere in sight which meant he was already at the edge of the Fold with his own guards.

It had been her first time outside since she arrived to the camp, flanked heavily by guards, and she felt extremely nervous as she saw groups of people, soldiers and commoners alike, stop whatever they were doing to stare at her. It only increased when she realized, to her absolute shock, that people were starting to follow her small entourage, resulting in a rather sizable crowd behind them, which only grew the more steps she took.

Shuttering her face, she marched on, trying to ignore the shouts of, "Sankta!" for she didn't know whether they were said in reverence or jest. Both of which did not incite a great deal of pleasant feelings for her.

By the time they had reached their appointed destination, the crowd was gathered on both sides behind her and consisted not only of men, but also wide-eyed women and children. The whole town of Kribirsk had apparently gathered behind her to watch the demonstration. It was most likely what the Darkling had planned all along.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Alina stared straight ahead as her Oprichniki parted, giving her an unobstructed view of the handsome man before her. Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met and the Darkling made his way forward. As usual he wore a black kefta, but this one was slightly fancier and lined with beautiful silver fur that mirrored the colour of his eyes.

He held out his hand for her to take and immediately, she felt his power flooding her veins upon contact, giving her the rush of surety and adrenaline she desperately needed. Forcing herself not to look back at the crowd, she allowed him to lead her forward and focused on the wall of moving, impenetrable darkness before her.

This selected area of the Fold was narrower than the others, meaning that it would cost Alina less energy to extend her light all the way to the other side. Weeks of listening to scout reports and studying detailed maps of the Unsea and its environs had resulted in this decision and, although this was the first time she was seeing it up close, the logistics of her demonstration were deeply ingrained in her mind, giving her a sense of comfort and familiarity.

The Darkling steered her to a raised platform, almost like a small stage, that stood parallel to the drydocks where the skiffs were nesting, in the formation outlined that would allow them to enter the Fold one after the other in a straight line, like marching ants.

She expected him to stay by her side as she stepped unto the platform but he quickly retreated and, with that, so did the sense of surety she was feeling. Finally she chanced a glance behind her and saw the crowd as well as the crewmen, merchants and soldiers on the skiffs, waiting with bated breath for the grand revelation of her powers. She knew it was time.

Steadying herself, Alina suppressed the bout of nervousness and uncertainty that was gnawing at her insides and gave herself over to her powers, letting it wash over her in all its warmth and glory, reveling at the way the light gently caressed her skin as it came out. It was a warm up of sorts. She needed it to ground herself for the task ahead. Slowly, she focused on the space of darkness before her, allowing a brilliant white hot jet of light to shoot forth from her palms, illuminating the barren plains of the Fold. Soon enough, and with painstaking effort, she was able to see the green meadows of West Ravka through the thin strip of light she had created. Finally, with beads of perspiration on her forehead, she spread her arms wider, parting the sea of darkness enough to provide room for the sand skiffs to pass.

So focused in what she was doing, she didn't notice the gasps of surprise or jubilant roars that emitted from the crowd. People cried and hugged one another and some even bowed where they stood, honored to be in the presence of what they perceived to be a Saint.

One by one, the skiffs started to move, entering the Fold safely through the narrow path of light. On both sides of the darkness, she heard the shill and confused cries of the volcra as they fled the brilliant rays, leaving those on the skiff to enjoy a peaceful and almost quiet ride.

It was when the first skiff had almost neared the meadows of West Ravka that Alina felt it. The all too familiar warning sign that this was her limit. Panic set in before she could help herself and the light emanating from her palms flickered momentarily as she fought against the light-headedness and sudden weakness in her legs. She knew the Darkling and Ivan were only yards away behind her but she couldn't call for help without breaking her concentration. She needed to push herself more than ever. If she blacked out for three days after this, it wouldn't matter, as long as those aboard the skiffs made it safely to the other side.

When her vision began to blur and her arms felt as if they were about to fall off, she felt him behind her. The soft velvet of his kefta pressed up against her back, supporting her weak limbs. One hand wrapped tightly around her waist and the other gently against the back of her neck, allowing his power to surge through her once more. Suddenly, her symptoms vanished and she felt the raw energy crackling between them, making her feel more powerful than ever before.

"You're doing well," the Darkling murmured encouragingly, his lips and breath caressing the shell of her ear, "don't lose focus."

She didn't, of course. As tempting as it seemed to just lay back and enjoy the feel of him, her need to impress him was even stronger. Together they stood on the platform, surveyed by the stunned crowd, and watched as the last of the skiffs entered West Ravka.

Slowly, Alina let the light recede until the Fold was back to its original state and, still heady from the rush of their powerful connection, she turned to face the Darkling with a broad grin on her face. His hands were at his sides now and he cocked his head to one side, observing her with a warm, triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Well done," he whispered as he looked down at her beaming face, "look how the people revere you."

With that he took her hand once again and led her off of the platform, motioning towards crowd which emanated with deafening cheers. A chorus of happiness, relief and wonder. A feeling of uneasiness wormed its way into her stomach as she noticed a large number of people bowing before her, muttering prayers and clutching beads at their chests. She'd refused to paint herself as a Saint but the Darkling had apparently embraced that notion. Feeling slightly defeated, she rationalized that Ravkans, being as superstitious as they were, would label her as a Saint, even without the Darkling's influence, and she waved to the crowd with a slight smile on her lips, sending them into even more of a frenzy as people tripped over themselves to get closer to her.

Craning her neck, she scanned the crowd with a frown, wondering if Mal was there. She hadn't seen him on any of the skiffs although she'd heard that his division was supposed to depart for West Ravka with the others. With a jolt of surprise, she felt the Darkling's fingers wrap tightly around her hand. Confused, she turned to face him and her stomach dropped as she saw the warmth vanish from his expression.

"You're thinking about that tracker aren't you?"

"I..." she paused for a moment, remembering her punishment for lying the night before and she let out a quick breath.

"Yes," she breathed, unable to meet his eyes.

"Well I expect he'll make his way to us soon."

Before she could ask him what he meant, she heard a voice to her left.

"ALINA!!"

Quickly, she whipped around and found herself looking at Mal. He was being dragged through the crowd by a couple Oprichniki along with a short stockily built ginger haired man who looked confused but was compliant enough, making the work of the guards easier as they escorted him to the platform. Soon both men were only a few feet from her, extricating themselves from the tangle of bodies and the vice-like grip of their escorts.

Mirroring the bemusement of the red haired man, her lips parted as she looked questioningly at the pair then at the Darkling who now had Ivan standing on his other side. Before she could say anything, however, it was the dark haired man who spoke first.

"I apologize for plucking you out of the skiff in such short notice, gentlemen," the Darkling drawled, his tone lazy and unbothered as he pinned them with a sharp dangerous gaze, "but there is something of great importance that needs to be discussed."

"W-why us?" the stocky man next to Mal stammered weakly as he took in the black kefta swathed around the lean frame of the man before him with round terror filled eyes.

"Because you're the best trackers in the First Army," he replied before gesturing to the Oprichniki behind them, "Take them to the tent. We will be there shortly."


End file.
